


The Himbo

by ProHeroMidoriyaShouto



Series: BNHA BUT B99 [3]
Category: Brooklyn Nine-Nine (TV), 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Fluff and Humor, Gen, M/M, Manga Spoilers, a dad who tries and a son who also tries but neither of them are good at it, canon typical violence at most, give shouto a killer whale dad 2k19, kaminari commits noodle crimes and must die, paintball gun-related shooting, parental Gang Orca, remedial course arc spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-20
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:36:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21870679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProHeroMidoriyaShouto/pseuds/ProHeroMidoriyaShouto
Summary: Gang Orca and Shouto investigate a case at UTokyo. Satou and Tenya take their classmates to lunch.
Relationships: Midoriya Izuku/Todoroki Shouto
Series: BNHA BUT B99 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1575565
Kudos: 7





	The Himbo

**Author's Note:**

> I saw the chance to do Dad Orca and Shouto and I took it. Izuku's brazilian and I said long hair rights! Third fic for the BNHA X B99 Bang.
> 
> Art for this fic was made by skucos on tumblr and insta. Check out their art!!

As has become the norm, Yoarashi’s voice can be heard well before the boy stumbles through the doorway of the staff meeting room to take his seat.

“-without me! I’m here! PLEASE WAIT FOR ME!”

He’s ruffled, hat askew and cape caught around one of his legs, looking out of breath even as he smiles at those who arrived on time.

Kugo dispassionately watches the boy straighten his costume and bow in dramatic fashion, his head pressed to the ground. “MY APOLOGIES FOR MY TARDINESS! PLEASE COMMENCE THE MEETING!”

“The meeting is over, Cloudburst.” Kugo says. The boy’s usual wide grin falls. “You missed roll call, and the tutorial on the new security measures required for proper evidence lock-up. Six weeks and I still cannot get you to show up on time.” He crosses his arms over his chest and makes his displeasure known. “I’m beginning to think that offering you a spot at my agency was a mistake.”

Yoarashi’s face twists into obvious distraught, looking very much like a kicked puppy. Gang Orca almost feels bad.

Kugo would never treat a child like an interchangeable thing, but Gang Orca is not known for offering internships, and the two positions he has offered this year are coveted jealously by hero students across the nation. He made Yoarashi an offer because he has potential, but he must realize that simply because he was offered the position firsthand does not mean he is entitled to it.

“I’M SORRY! I TRULY MEANT TO ARRIVE ON TIME, SIR!”

“If that is the case… why are you always late?”

The toe of his big boot digs into the tile floor as his cheeks puff defensively. “I-”

“And inside voice please.”

“-YES! Erm, uh yessir. I feel that the train takes too long and the street is too crowded, so I’ve been using my quirk to bypass them on my way here.”

“Then you should, in fact, arrive earlier than the rest. _Why are you always late?_”

“Y-yes, well, see it’s like this-”

“He can’t read maps.” Todoroki interjects. His eyes remain glued to his phone as his thumbs fly over the sliding keyboard- messaging the boy he’s smitten on or working on one of his fanfiction drafts- and continues. “He thinks north is _up_ and that the cardinal directions change depending on where you’re facing.”

Yoarashi wears a mixed look of irritation, betrayal, and embarrassment but he doesn’t correct Todoroki which means it must be true. It means he feels judged, uncomfortable being vulnerable, when the boy should know he is among allies here and all he has to do is ask for help to receive it.

“…you know we can help you with that? Tanaka, Murakami, and Fakhoury in Analytics are autistic-”

“I’M NOT-! Ahem, I am not on the spectrum, sir.”

“He’s just an airhead.” Todoroki interrupts a second time. Yoarashi’s head whips around so fast to glare at him that it’s a wonder his neck has not snapped in twain. Todoroki shows no signs of being intimidated by his glowering, however. “Whatever you say goes in one ear and out the other. My boyfriend says he’s tactile learner, so you have to show him exactly what you mean for the lesson to take. We took a weekend and showed him to prove his hypothesis.”

Kugo turns his focus to his smaller intern, curious. He knows Todoroki is also still unused to opening up, so he’ll only tease him a little. He fights the urge to wink and simply raises a single brow. Difficult with how his mutation affects his face, but anything is possible with practice. “Let me get this straight. You and… _Midoriya?_”

“Yes.” Todoroki flushes a soft rosy tint, and Kugo watches several sidekicks mime victory out of the boy’s sight as others bitterly exchange yen notes and at least one _Denny’s_ gift card. Todoroki’s eyes briefly flit up to him and when he sees his satisfied expression he ducks behind his bangs, face as red as half of his hair, and Kugo does his best not to smile. For all of the boy’s complaints, he could not deny the results of Kugo’s advice. But that is a matter for another time.

“The two of you taught Yoarashi how to arrive on time? To travel to the agency specifically?”

“Yes.”

Kugo tilts his head toward Yoarashi and waits for the young man to come to his own defense.

“The train takes too long, sir, and I can fly!” It’s a weak excuse and Yoarashi says it like he knows it, all the fight wiped out of him but doubling down anyway because it’s all that he has.

“An irrelevant point if you are always late. Do you not understand the importance of being punctual? Do we need to set up an escort for you?”

“…maybe you should give up and accept me for who I am?” Several sidekicks look impressed at that attempt at a Hail Mary pass, but Kugo certainly is not.

“No.” He growls and rises to his full height. “I will break you. Right now.”

“Oh.” The boy has the decency to appear chastised, but the time for mercy is over.

“While you were out being tardy, I was hard at work developing a special punishment.” Kugo signals the veteran sidekicks to join him at his side and they queue up silently. Todoroki is corralled toward the back, seemingly for the sole purpose of teasing him for as long as possible. It means he’ll be next to last, which serves Kugo’s purposes just fine. “I’ve crafted an intricate, personal heroic dance and catch-phrase for everyone here.”

Yoarashi’s eyes widen and the stars are practically visible in his eyes almost as though he has forgotten to be wary. That won’t do. Kugo will teach him.

“_Except you_.”

“But I thought you hated scripted performance?!”

“Every minute of it was hell. A hero’s passion is never more powerful than when everything is on the line and they can elevate peoples’ hearts in those intense moments of improvisation! But this will be worse for you.”

Yoarashi is startled by the sudden flash of a sidekick’s quirk and the fall of holographic confetti as the first group forms up behind Kugo like the goddamn professionals they are, and he is helpless but to witness their dedication.

“Is that-!”

Kugo puts forth as much effort as he can spare, knowing he has a room full of sidekicks left to join in on this lesson. Raising these children is a task the whole agency must undertake and anything less than their everything is unacceptable. If they fail to nurture these boys into proper young men, they will have no one to blame but themselves!

“The Carlton into the Cha Cha slide?!”

“Try me, bitch.” Yoarashi needs to realize that punctuality is the utmost skill of being a hero. Every step, every unexpected twist, every over-the-shoulder _fanny waggle_ must be perfectly in sync or they will lose face! Teamwork must be flawless!

“The Nae Nae into Gangnam Style with a Conga finish?!”

“Welcome. To. Chili’s!” In the real world, a single misstep caused well thought out plans to fall to pieces every day. Of course, no plan survives contact with the enemy, but heroes still have their role to fill and timing can mean the difference between life and death. The snake charmer must charm the snake because the danger of being bitten is real.

“The Running Man?!”

“Freedom, Billy!” Gang Orca may only be ranked #10, but he prides himself in doing work beyond his obligation. He is a hero; his job is to risk it all in the hopes that he makes even the slightest difference. But what he won’t risk are these children, entrusted to his care perhaps against his own better judgement, the lives of those who inherit the world he leads them into. If he must nudge them by their obstinate bottoms to the best possible path, then he will bump them to the ground until they can stand on their own two feet!

“Twerking during the Cupid Shuffle?!”

“I am the night!”

“The Dougie with a Stanky Leg?!”

“Watch the queen conquer!”

Todoroki finally approaches on his own—the only other person left is their security consultant---with much fanfare as the sidekicks offer encouraging words ahead of his showcase. His cheeks are pink, but his expression is one of discomfort and not annoyance, so he feels self-conscious rather than chafed by his senpai’s behavior. He’s one of those boys with a reputation to keep, but he must learn that when one is with friends, there is no such thing as humiliation.

“N-NO-! THE TOOTSEE ROLL?!”

Yoarashi is finally broken. He’s fallen to his knees, supporting himself up with one hand on the table, clutching at his heart with the other. He’s completely devastated.

Which is too bad, since Todoroki’s next move seems to reverberate through his shell of a body without regard for his wellbeing. “_The Physically Fit-!_” Yoarashi _wheezes_.

“Cowabunga, motherfucker.”

_Todoroki-! I had no idea you were at this level already-! How- how have I really fallen this far behind you?!_

The boy might actually be crying. “No more! I can’t- T-this is too much!”

Yet he still has the energy to protest. But that is why Kugo is prepared. He is not a pro to leave anything to chance! A hero must always have another finishing move!

_“Thank you for your time, Leo from IT!”_

“The- the Macarena…!” Yoarashi sobs openly. “Leo! Leo from IT!” _How could he have missed it?!_

Perhaps there remains hope for the young man yet!

*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*

For U.A.’s second year hero course, classes end early on Fridays.

Students with internships or ready-made-plans charge out the door like fire is nipping at their heels, but the rest move at a far more sedate pace. Mina and Kaminari are plotting something if the whispering over Sero’s desk is anything to go by, while the majority of those without work gather in the back of the room to begin discussing burgeoning weekend plans.

Notebook stashed away and pencil tucked behind his ear, Shouto is set to leave in record time whereas his boyfriend is still ruminating over his notes, tugging at his lip and scribbling in the margins of the page well after the room is half-empty.

Someone else would probably rouse Izuku from his mutterings and urge him out the door, citing chores to be done or training schedules to keep, but Shouto is not so inclined. Izuku’s voice is nice and his ramblings are informative, and Shouto could spend all afternoon listening to him talk about the political fallout of the Moscow-Bengaluru Kuiper Belt Incident from six years ago or the latest food-obsessive podcast episode to release this week and would never get fed up.

Shouto stands idle by Izuku’s desk for all of thirty seconds before he decides to play with Izuku’s hair. Equal parts to have something to do, and because he’s allowed. Because he’s_ allowed_ _to_, because he knows Izuku likes it, and it fills Shouto with a warm dizzying feeling in his belly.

What they have is still new, and the sudden increased intimacy is still something to tread carefully about. These new privileges are treasured and the last thing he wants is to lose them. It’s a balancing act, he doesn’t want to hesitate to initiate contact, but he also isn’t sure what’s considered too far yet either.

Shouto methodically removes the tie holding much of the shoulder length mane tamed, deftly pries open clips holding his bangs out of his face, and runs his fingers through the dark curly locks with no small amount of appreciation. The strands are thick and the whole of it soft, downright fluffy. The additional length coupled with the curly texture results in a wild, wavy mess with rebellious peaks poking out in every direction no matter the effort put into taming it in the morning. Izuku has long given up on gel and sprays to apply any kind of hold and opts for a strong scrunchy and hair clips.

The shift in color from green to black and back again under light is nothing short of fascinating and births a dozen theories about the origins of Izuku’s natural coloration. It’s not a shimmer, but a sheen that warps under any light, natural or artificial. It must be _green_ but there is no denying the dark twists and shadows in the curls as a whole other color. Others with green hair—Tsuyu, and Izuku’s mother, Inko—do not experience this effect. Shadows in their hair are obviously still green. But Izuku’s is jet black the moment light no longer touches the strands.

Shouto could look at Izuku’s hair for hours.

Izuku has mentioned being long overdue for a trim, but Shouto had been adamantly against the idea when brought up—when Izuku looks up through the shadows cast on his face with a thunderous expression, the mane of dark curls, contrast of bright eyes, and so, so many freckles makes quite a devastating sight, though Shouto will deny swooning on the sidelines during combat training when someone noticed.

His boyfriend is very handsome with long hair, okay.

Shouto lightly scratches his scalp and dutifully keeps errant strands from failing into his face as he combs through with his fingers, easing knots loose with care. Izuku tilts his head toward his reaching hands with a hum, but otherwise gives no indication of being disturbed and continues writing his notes. He’s switched subjects to something quirk related, though he starts flipping through the pages too quick for Shouto to really get the gist.

The ministrations have the unexpected, but welcome, effect of Izuku looping his right arm around Shouto’s waist to pull him closer until Shouto is practically tucked into his side while he takes up writing with his left hand. It’s a casual move but no less incredible, his heart is racing so fast he can nearly see it jumping out of his chest, his face growing uncomfortably _warm_\- Shouto closes his eyes and basks in the contact like a greedy reptile bathing in the heat of the sun, fingers absently working the unruly locks into a thick side braid.

Izuku is predominantly right-handed and a self-taught lefty. He only started writing with it after their first sports festival when his right arm was completely unusable, and even after a year, he’s still a little clumsy and writes much more slowly when he makes the effort.

His arm around Shouto’s waist means his right hand is coiled around his hip—his scarred, powerful hand—and he can’t turn the pages as quickly or hide his notes under the guise of keeping his notebook in place. This allows Shouto to sneak a proper glance and see that Izuku is writing down questions to ask next class before he forgets them, but what really catches his eye are the iterations of what Shouto knows to be his own name written in the corners in English letters with little hearts in place of the o’s and his last name crossed out in one place, whited out in another, both replaced by _Midoriya_.

His cheeks ache with the spread of his grin and he ducks to hide his pleased expression in Izuku’s hair with a giggle. The honey scent of his leave-in conditioner is wonderful and hypnotizing and the temptation to simply doze here is frightening in its intensity.

Izuku freezes as it all seems to click and he sputters apologies about being presumptuous so early in a relationship while shutting his notebook so fast he must be using his quirk— the sudden smell of ozone, little arcs of green lightning fizzling little staticky kisses against Shouto’s skin—and he stands abruptly. His chair squeals and draws the attention of everyone left in the room as Shouto is forced to take a step back or risk getting knocked into the hallway by a Full Cowl-infused limb.

Izuku’s expression is decidedly flustered and panicked, and he’s talking a mile a minute—tripping into his mother’s _português brasileiro _and slurring non-sensical halfwords all over the place—and has that look in his eye when he’s on the verge of spiraling uncontrollably, but Shouto is nothing if not merciful and stands on his toes to leave a quick peck on his lips that makes Izuku choke on the rest of his unspoken anxiety and insecurity.

Izuku’s green eyes flit down to the plush, bright pink material of Shouto’s tie as he suddenly turns bashful, but Shouto’s presence in his space prevents him from hiding behind his arms. Instead he smiles his nervous, wibbly smile that so very him, and tugs Shouto close enough to feel his breath on his face. Shouto tucks his own wavy bangs out of his face and absently grasps the base of his tie so Izuku doesn’t pull too hard on the support item.

It’s a clip-on and the longer he can keep that information from the school the better. Claiming the new tie was a symbol of his employment at Gang Orca’s agency had gotten him a pass with little more than an incredulous squint but should Aizawa learn it is not _tied_ he might decide to put Shouto under greater scrutiny. That must be avoided at all costs. The soba-exclusive minifridge hidden in his closet is simply too valuable.

Izuku pinches the gel-like material between his thumb and forefinger repeatedly. “Is it—ah. You’re not, um, upset?” His voice is small, worried. He has no reason to be, but how can he know that?

How can Izuku know the countless hours Shouto spent looking at the calendar in his room, lain on the cold floor and circled the earliest date he could take his name instead? Practiced introducing himself _Midoriya Shouto_ in front of the mirror, practiced the kanji, hiragana, and katakana until his fingers ached and his wrists were stiff, but it looked right and natural?

Shouto’s sure his eyes are shining, and his face is red making him look like a lovesick loon, but he doesn’t care. He knows it’s too soon for them to really be thinking of those things; taking Izuku’s name, the implication of marriage and all it entails—it’s not realistic, high school sweethearts don’t always work out, love can fade if you don’t keep choosing to love, people _change_, but he’s sixteen-and-a-half, sent his abuser to prison after a lifetime of misery, and nearly been killed by more serial killers than the average person will ever encounter in their entire lives in a single year. He doesn’t care about the future when the present remains so uncertain.

“Yeah.” He will luxuriate in his current good fortune like Fatgum at an all-you-can-eat buffet and nothing anyone says can stop him. “We’re good.” Shouto has fifteen years of loving and being loved to catch up on and there is no better time to start.

Izuku grins and leans down to press his lips to Shouto’s temple. His lips are dry and chapped but its magnificent—Shouto’s_ right_—and his eyes slip shut as Izuku’s arms wrap around his waist and back, heavy and secure. There’s no where he’d rather be at this very moment. …okay, maybe spooning on his futon while they watch a documentary and Izuku could slide his warm calves over Shouto’s toes even though they’re never cold because he’s considerate and self-sacrificing in that way, with his broad chest flush to Shouto’s back, strong and _safe_, but the dorms are so far away and Izuku is in his embrace already, _so-_

-so of course someone has to ruin the moment.

“Come on, lovebirds.” Momo calls from the doorway. Jirou and Hagakure are arguing about the correct way to eat snacks in the hallway and causing an absolute ruckus, which really should be the focus of her attention rather than them and he wishes he could spit like a cat to communicate as much. The only reason he doesn’t is because she’s on kitchen duty today and he’s since learned not to shit where he eats.

Izuku—equal parts brave and stupid and _Shouto’s_—ignores her, and boldly untucks Shouto’s shirt while kissing the corner of his mouth and sliding a calloused hand over the small of his back.

This new shameless Izuku is nice, Shouto thinks. Turning seventeen evidently awakens things in people. At least, handsome boys who want to make out with their pretty boyfriends all over campus as much as said boyfriends want to make out with them too.

Momo rolls her eyes for so long she might as well have fallen asleep were it not for the high voltage taser she’s created and aimed at them in half a second. The_ Kaminari-sama_ special—she means business. “_Midoriya._ You can dry hump your shorty later. In private preferably. I know you heard them call us over the PA. We need to go.”

Shouto stiffens as a whip of indignation suddenly draws his spine taught and furious. She did not call him that. _“Shorty?”_

“Oh, I’m sorry.” She says, absolutely unapologetic. Her eyes narrow menacingly, and her lips tug into a smug smile that makes her look beautiful and powerful and he hates her. “How do Americans say it again? _Shawty?_” A lot.

He’s seething in place, and if not for Izuku’s proximity he’d have burst into flames. The rest of the boys are all taller than Shouto now, _yes,_ but he’s not _short_ or even the shortest in their class. Just because Izuku’s gained two inches on Shouto over the summer doesn’t make him a shawty-shorty- fuck, whatever, it doesn’t mean anything. He’s a respectable 5’10”! He’s perfectly tall!

The anger is swept out of him and replaced with betrayal when Izuku laughs, carefree but sheepish, and reluctantly gathers his things now in the line of fire. Annoyance thrums at his brow and he’s missing the gentle press of Izuku’s lips on his face so when he passes Momo at the door he blows a raspberry in the hopes of ruining her perfect mascara. She turns her nose up at him in spite of this and turns up the voltage—he’s not sure what that’s supposed to accomplish since he’s in no danger of being shot and Izuku will most certainly survive that—and he just knows she’s going to serve the spit back to him in his empanadas.

“Later, hon!” Izuku bursts from the classroom with a battle cry and a quirked-up stomp that barely makes a dent in the tile but causes Momo to stagger, and proceeds to take off at full pelt to the elevator for Principal Nedzu’s floor before she can steady her footing. Momo yells in fury and takes off after him in rocket boots without so much as a by-your-leave—while not late, to arrive _second_ is not to arrive _on time_, which is the worst-case scenario of someone who maintains various same-day planners.

The two of them should order take-out tonight for everyone’s safety.

Plans with his boyfriend dashed, it seems Shouto must find other means of entertaining himself on his rare day off. His phone buzzes in his pocket but he ignores it for the time being in favor of jumping into Jirou and Hagakure’s conversation as they head for the dorms. He doesn’t have especially strong feelings about non-soba foods, much less sweets, but he drops _cherry garcia is a better flavor than dark chocolate _like a dirty bomb, and jogs away with the air of a man who has nothing to lose.

Texting confirms that Tenya is available to train together which he leaps upon—quirkless combat is still a subject neither of them excel in—and evading Hagakure’s fury will be a good pre-spar warm-up.

*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*

Everything in the refrigerator is spoiled. The result of unsupervised, poorly calculated shenanigans by the usual suspects. Aizawa had been in the building when the bootleg x-ray machine had powered up and destroyed all the circuitry in a series of spontaneous electrical fires which is why they were unable to escape his wrath as they typically attempted.

Everything connected to a wall socket was broken or unresponsive, including the communal kitchen appliances and the food stuffs nearby. If not fried by electricity, things had been burned by fire or spoiled by the heat.

It would take the entire support department at least two days to replace and repair everything in 2-A’s dorm building, and it would be just as long before fresh meals could be prepared in house again.

It had to fall on Yaoyorozu’s kitchen shift, which many were especially upset about given her culinary prowess and ability to pair nearly anything with Phantom Black tea. Tokoyami and Aoyama are particularly miserable and pick at Aoyama’s plate of cheeses morosely.

“Dark Shadow, put down the sword.” Shouji, at least, is doing his best spare Kaminari’s life, and Tenya will make sure to inform him who he has to thank for his continued existence.

“You’re not my human. You can’t tell me what to do.”

“I am one of your humans and I’m telling you to put the cursed sword down.”

“You’re not my human.”

“Have an apple. It’s the same.”

“It is _not_ the same!”

“It is the same.”

“Raw apples are not sweet empanadas!”

“Apples are the same either way. Put the sword down and eat one.”

Tenya can’t be sure progress is being made on that front, but Kaminari is in less immediate danger than before so it’s good enough, all things considered. On the other hand, the issue of dinner yet remains. It’s not so late that anyone is starving but the sudden loss of food has made everyone _think_ about their next meal and that is upsetting.

Ordering from a restaurant is a task in and of itself due to varying preferences and dietary limitations, and the sheer quantity would be too much to impose upon a single establishment which would mean multiple orders from multiple restaurants to coordinate for the entire class for several meals for two or three days. Not impossible, but a daunting task Tenya does not look forward to as Class President.

Aizawa-sensei reprimanded Kaminari, Ashido, and Sero for their ill-advised attempt to create a floor-wide x-ray machine to snoop on their classmates, and aside from cancelling their internships and informing their parents of the damages, has them scrubbing the brick pathways leading to the dorms with toothbrushes. A fitting punishment that will force them to think twice before pulling something like this again, but Tenya is not exactly holding his breath.

Shouto hurries past and Tenya hopes nothing valuable was destroyed in his friend’s room. On the upside, if his laptop is ruined then Tenya can finally upgrade him to a proper gaming PC. Titanfall 2 is meant to be played with friends and Izuku refuses to leave the campaign.

Satou comes from his room with left over biscuits and day-old cookies and the mood becomes significantly more chipper. Momo has created an electric pot to heat water and Kendo delivers jugs of it from the 2-B dorm so that they can sit down and relax with a cup of tea. It’s a great respite even if Tenya does not look forward to the coming days.

“Everyone! While support is processing our repairs I will be taking you all out to dinner!”

His classmates erupt into cheers and relieved smiles spread over their faces. Not everyone can afford to eat out as they must and he has more than enough money in his personal account thanks to his generous allowance. He is their President—he will not let his friends go without.

“Thanks for taking care of us, Tenya!” Ochako kisses his cheek and his engines rev embarrassingly as he ducks his head away. She tilts her head and grins at him mischievously—_she’s so pretty_—and grabs his bicep so he can’t retreat any more than that. He knows that if she feels him pull away she’ll float him but standing so close while she’s being openly affectionate can be difficult at times. His engines start to smoke, his legs get hot, and he keeps ruining perfectly good slacks. His mother has started to ask innocent questions with pointed looks and he isn’t quite ready to have that conversation.

“Don’t suppose support could replace my oven and fridge too?” Satou pouts. He disposes of burned pastries in the kitchen garbage and sets his pans to soak in the sink. “This is really gonna set my training regimen back a bit.”

“Those are personal items and not strictly covered by the school, but I can put in the request as it’s technically part of your quirk training. No promises though.”

Satou beams. “Thanks a bunch. I wish there was something we could do at home, but using the other dorms would be a big imposition…”

“I thought similarly. Lunch Rush would have accommodated us in the cafeteria, but it is my understanding he is on family leave and the other cooks do not work weekends.”

“I didn’t realize how important the kitchen is to our lives until it got wrecked.” Ochako says. “I’ve never seen morale take that kind of hit aside from when villains attack.”

“It’s something a lot of people take for granted.” Satou nods sagely. “So much of a person’s life is lived in their kitchen. It’s basically the heart of the home.”

“It’s only two days before its fixed, right? It won’t be that bad.”

“Making it all Iida’s responsibility feels like a lot too though.” Satou spares a thoughtful glance at his pot and pans as an idea begin to take shape in his mind.

“It cannot be helped—”

“Ooh, wait. Put a pin in that thought, I have an idea, let me call my mom real quick.”

Busy on his phone, Satou is the only one who is not startled by the mini fridge that crashes to the ground outside the dorm entry way. Everyone watches the trio outside shriek and retreat against the wall as wicked icicles impale the ground by their feet, and then flinch away as the windows frost over.

Dread pools in Tenya’s belly as he shares a look with Ochako.

“_Not his soba_.”

Shouto crash lands on the remains of the mini fridge like a dark specter cloaked in freezing mist, dropping the temperature so much that Tenya can feel through his shoes. Kaminari and Ashido frantically try to reason with the boy but Sero tries to run away and is frozen solid for the effort. Their cries for mercy grow in volume but Satou stands on the couch and draws people’s attention away from the violence outside.

“Guys! My family’s bakery has agreed to cater our meals tomorrow!”

The screaming outside is overtaken by the screaming inside. Even Dark Shadow applauds. It should feel like relief, to know there is a plan and not have it all on his shoulders. But he can’t help but feel that his toes are being stepped on—a childish feeling, this possessiveness over the care of his classmates. He takes pride in loosening his need for control of situations beyond his capabilities, but the feeling persists.

“_That’s_ how you raise morale, pres!” Satou winks at him, and Tenya is sure a star pops on his forehead like he’s been blessed by a magical girl.

He pauses at Satou’s tone. “Are you trying to out-do me?”

Satou smirks. “No, no. Just trying to help _raise morale_.”

Tenya narrows his eyes, disbelieving and sure he’s missing something. “Cool, cool, cool. Morale, morale, morale.” His position… is being threatened?

A loud crash from outside draws _oohs_ and Jirou laughs at Kaminari’s expense. She heaves for breath while Hagakure pats her back and records a video on her phone in the other hand. Momo’s mouth is set in a grim line as she watches Shouto lift his god-forsaken mini fridge over his head as Kaminari cowers amongst broken bowls of blackened noodles. She didn’t run for class office in their second year to make time for combat training instead and while he understands she no longer shares the responsibility with him, he does wish she’d be a little bit more proactive at times like this.

“I always knew Denki’d die cold and alone.”

There is no reprieve from the duties of class president.

**Author's Note:**

> The physically fit dance that I'm referencing in the first part is the one King Julian from Madagascar performs in the movie. I had a different ending but then Shouto said Kaminari (and Ashido and Sero) had to die and I'm alright with that. Next chapter: Shouto Goes To College


End file.
